Chapter 4 - What Dwight Had Been Hiding
Dwight arrived two hours later.
He saw the photograph.
Then he sat down without being asked.
“Where’d you get that?”
Lena’s heart sank.
“You’ve seen it.”
Dwight rubbed both hands over his face.
“Your dad gave me a copy.”
“You knew him.”
“Best friend I ever had.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because he made me promise.”
“Before he died?”
Dwight looked at Vincent.
“I don’t talk with him here.”
Vincent stood.
“My office.”
“You’re Moretti.”
“I’m aware.”
“Your father was in that picture.”
Vincent’s voice hardened.
“And mine died without telling me what happened either.”
That silenced Dwight.
Vincent walked toward the door.
“I’ll give you privacy.”
Lena stopped him.
“Stay.”
He turned.
“If my father trusted yours enough to stand beside him, I want to know why.”
Dwight exhaled.
“Thomas found something.”
“The missing money?”
“More than money.”
Dwight explained that Wade Holland had been buying distressed properties through shell companies. Fires, false inspection reports, intimidation—anything that lowered values.
Thomas Cross discovered the records.
“He copied everything,” Dwight said.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Lena stared at him.
“You do.”
Dwight shook his head.
“Your dad said if anything happened, I should tell you one thing when you were old enough.”
“You’ve had six years.”
“I kept waiting for the Hollands to forget you.”
“They didn’t.”
“No.”
“What was the message?”
Dwight looked at her.
“Thursday was never about meatloaf.”
Lena frowned.
“What?”
“Your dad used to bring you to Hal’s on Thursdays.”
She remembered.
Booth seven.
Chocolate milk.
Her father drawing little houses on napkins.
Then she understood.
“Reggie.”
Dwight nodded.
“Reggie started coming every Thursday after your dad died.”
They drove back to Belmore.
Reggie was waiting outside Hal’s.
Lena walked straight to him.
“Why Thursdays?”
The old man looked at Dwight.
Then Vincent.
Then Lena.
“About time.”
He took them inside.
Police had released the diner.
Reggie walked to booth seven.
He knelt with difficulty and reached beneath the table.
His fingers found an old screw.
He twisted it.
A narrow panel dropped.
Inside was a brass key.
Lena stared.
“What does it open?”
Reggie smiled sadly.
“Your father said you’d know.”
She didn’t.
Not immediately.
Then she saw the number stamped on it.
214.
Her breath caught.
“Belmore Station.”
The old train station had rental lockers.
Twenty minutes later, they stood before locker 214.
Lena inserted the key.
Inside was a metal box.
Vincent opened it.
Ledgers.
Photographs.
Copies of deeds.
Inspection reports.
And a small cassette recorder.
Daniel found an old player at a thrift shop.
They returned to Hal’s.
Lena pressed PLAY.
Static.
Then her father’s voice.
“If Lena ever hears this, it means I failed to come home.”
Her eyes closed.
Vincent said nothing.
Thomas continued.
“Wade Holland is stealing properties through threats and fraudulent inspections. I have copies. But Wade isn’t working alone.”
A pause.
“The man financing him is Anthony Moretti.”
Vincent went completely still.
His uncle.
Thomas’s voice continued.
“Vincent’s father discovered it. Carlo Moretti is helping me take the evidence to federal investigators.”
Vincent whispered, “Dad.”
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
“If something happens to Carlo or me, Anthony and Wade did it.”
The tape clicked off.
Nobody moved.
Lena looked at Vincent.
“Your uncle?”
His face had become unreadable.
“Yes.”
Daniel spoke quietly.
“Anthony runs Moretti Freight’s eastern division.”
Vincent stared at the recorder.
“For another hour, maybe.”
Lena caught his arm.
“No.”
He looked down at her hand.
“No revenge.”
“He killed our fathers.”
“We have evidence.”
Vincent’s eyes were cold.
“You think evidence stops men like Anthony?”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“But maybe you can.”
“How?”
“By being better than him.”
For a long moment, neither moved.
Then Vincent looked at Daniel.
“Call our attorney.”
Lena exhaled.
“And?”
“Federal investigators.”
Daniel nodded.
Vincent added, “Make copies of everything.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Vincent answered.
Anthony Moretti’s voice came through the speaker.
“Vincent.”
Everyone froze.
Anthony chuckled.
May you like
“You should have left that locker closed.”
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